Fallen Enough
by Akihikari
Summary: Keeping things casual is hard when you don't know what you're feeling. It's harder still when he's all you care about right now. And when he plays with the beating of your heart like this, you're afraid it might just be impossible.


_Fallen Enough_

oOo

**I am really very sorry about this I have literally no idea what I'm doing and everything sucks and I'm just going to stick to my Vantascest now aaaaa**

oOo

He looks so fresh-faced in the wind.

Legs dangling over the edge, propped up on his elbows beside you, his cape bunched impatiently out of the way, Eridan also looks young in a way that sets off a deep, throbbing ache in your chest. You pay it no heed as you return his quiet gaze with considerably less composure.

"Somethin' the matter?"

"Not really", he mumbles. "...It's kinda nice up here."

"Oh", you say in response. It's all you can say. His blank eyes slide back to the view ahead, and again your chest heaves with pain that you do not care to understand.

And again you find yourself thinking, _he's so young._

"Say, chief..."

"Hmm?" _He's from Alternia, is that what's the matter? Is that why they're all like—like that? _So young, and yet... You try to imagine yourself at his age and, though the memory is little more than a tattered photograph after aeons in the afterlife, it's clear enough to see that you were nothing like this stoic, glum-faced boy who does strange things to your insides with his voice.

You try to laugh. "Why so quiet? You've hardly spoken all this while. Am I a bit much for you to handle?" But your grin feels forced, almost grimace-like, as he turns to you again and raises an eyebrow. "Everythin's fine, Cro."

_That answers jack shit,_ you are about to say, when he continues with a faint scowl, "That's the glubbin' problem."

_Huh._ "It's just plain unnatural is all", he says nonchalantly. "Not really somefin I'm used to. It'll take a bit."

"You're not used to everything bein' fine, is that what you're saying?" Despite the clear white of your own eyes, you only dare sneak a glance at his expression, which is impassive. "Sounds weird, if ya ask me."

"That's why I don't ask you", Eridan snaps. "I'm sleepy. Been a while since I was sleepy, in fact. I'm gonna sleep."

"Uh", you say blankly, convinced that whatever the sensation in your stomach is, it can't be your heart sinking a little. _This is just a casual thing. ...Just hanging out cause we can, cause there's nothing else to do._ If he wants to sleep—no matter how sudden the decision—he very well can. "Sure thing, chief."

And he slides off his glasses in one fluid gesture and, to your unending astonishment, slumps sideways till his head rests in your lap.

"You Beforans don't get it", he says softly. "You're all so _young_, all a' you. God damn, I'm tired."

Your heart...

Something unknown and unseen and wonderful makes you stroke the bend of his horn with one dumfounded finger, unsure of everything and not complaining in the slightest. "Sleep then, babe", you hear yourself say when you find your voice again. "Maybe we can talk a bit when you wake up. About Beforus an' Alternia an' stuff."

_I'm the young one, you say._

Maybe it's true, but the weight of his head on your thighs is the only thing you are truly certain of as he closes his eyes and you try to still your aching, thumping heart.

oOo

The little twitch of surprise, the violet that blossoms in his cheeks as he turns his face away... the feel of his fingers against your lips. The heartbeat that collides and resonates with your own as you murmur into his hand, "Goddamn it, chief, ya got nowhere to go. What say you stay here for a while?"

_These things..._

You expect a _Get over it, Cro, the date's over. _You expect a _What makes you so sure I got nowhere to go? _You expect a _Even I can do better than you, __ya know__. _Eridan simply turns back to you, his hand limp in yours; you think you are imagining the tremble beneath his skin.

_Why do I feel these things so keenly?_

"Yeah, I think I'll stay", he says. "We got stuff to talk about. It ain't half bad."

Heartbeats.

_I should be careful, I..._

He's young and feels delightful in your arms, but the stealthy whispering ache grows just a little sharper as you rest your chin on the top of his head and let out a low laugh._ I don't have the slightest clue what I'm doing._

You tell him as much, and he snorts into your chest. "Not like I'm any better, to tell ya the truth. No idea what's wrong with me."

"It's not you", you reply, startled. "You gotta wonder what's wrong with people." _You're fine. So am I. It's just... _"Sometimes people ain't lookin' for what you have to offer. It's weird, but you can keep tryin' or accept that they don't dig ya and move on to the next lucky cat. No point gettin' hung up on your_self_."

_You're not the problem._

"Shit's deep", Eridan says dryly. He's toying with the strings of his cape as though to unfasten it; you raise a hand and join his motions with absent-minded playfulness. The rings on his slender fingers are strangely warm, as though mellowed by his heat. "But Cro"—his voice goes up by just half an octave—"they can't always be the problem."

"They can. Trust me." _...Not that I completely trust myself on this, but..._

_You're not..._

You can almost feel his grimace as he mutters, "Why should I trust you, of all people?"

_Because I... _Your hand abandons all pretense of attempting to untie the strings and instead strokes the length of his thumb with a touch light enough to tickle. When you feel him tense, you breathe into his hair, "Because I promise I'll be honest with you."

_I'll never find a way out now._

There's something in the stunned softness of his lips that twinges in your heart, your bones, your clinging arms. It swirls at the base of your stomach and on the thudding warmth of your cheeks as you pull away.

When he speaks again, it's so soft that you can barely hear it over the pounding in your chest. All you make out is your name... _Cronus_, he says for once... and a hesitant but definite movement that leaves him nestled more securely in your arms. His eyes are shut tight, his fists now clenched beneath your hand.

Heartbeats. Heartbeats and promises and you are an idiot.

"Stop worrying 'bout yourself", you hear yourself say to the misty dawn. "Why'd anyone wanna look your way if you obviously don't think you're worth it?"

"Not like anyone gave you the time a day either, yanno", he says petulantly; the very frequency of his words quivers in your veins. You shrug. "You're givin' me the time of day, aren't ya?"

"I—" His sentence fades abruptly, though, as every muscle in his body seems to slacken, all tension dissolving. "Yeah, I... I guess I am."

_He's so young._

"How old are ya again, chief?"

His reply is bald, unapologetic. "Physically? A little over six sweeps."

_And you say I'm the young one..._

"What about mentally?" You have to struggle to keep your voice firm. _Woulda been nice to look into his eyes and try to see what he's thinking, but... maybe that's why he's closed them_. "For how long have ya been dead, Eridan?"

"Not as long as you people", he says, "but long enough to start bitchin' to myself like an old man about how tirin' this afterlife deal is."

You can no longer help yourself as you press your lips to his again. This time there is no resistance on his part, reflexive or otherwise, and for the briefest of moments you wonder if he hates himself for it.

The shiver of his eyelashes, an arched eyebrow, a head tilted in vague confusion. _Damn it all to hell, he's lovely._

"We're dead", you laugh madly in the space between your faces, as his half-lidded eyes gaze curiously at your grin and that inexplicable ache sobs deep in you like a fracture, like the breaking of something you never knew you could do without. "It's over, chief. We did what we had to do an' got killed for it an' now we're dead. What say we make the best of it?"

_Maybe I am the young one._ But now all you know is the beginning of the first smile you have ever seen on his face. "I still think you're trash, Cro."

"I don't care what ya think I am." And in that second, you mean it. "As long as it's good enough for you to stay, it's good enough for me to handle."

In the sudden exultant sweetness of his skin against yours, you are certain your heart is going to burst. Fingers lace themselves with yours. Heartbeats.

_I'll never find a way out._

"Yeah", he whispers. "Yeah, it's good enough."


End file.
